


Out of the Mouth of Babes

by NegansOtherWife



Series: Tumblr Requests [2]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knifeplay, Mental Coercion, Smut, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegansOtherWife/pseuds/NegansOtherWife
Summary: Stumbling across the factory, exhausted and starved, you can't resist the appeal of what might lie within its walls. Dark Themes.





	Out of the Mouth of Babes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little slow to update my AO3 with the Tumblr requests I've had in the past. If you haven't read this one, you're in for a treat. x
> 
> My Tumblr: https://negansaysyouearnwhatyoutake.tumblr.com

When you’d come across the factory on your trek you’d believed it to be somewhat of a miracle. It’d been days since your last meal, weeks since you had a shower, and sleep deprivation was making you weak-minded. Therefore, your slowly decaying headspace had reasoned with you that it was worth a look around. 

There’d been no one watching the back gate. You’d seen the moment for what it was. Climbing the wired fence you’d barely registered the spikes digging into your palm. 

Now, you land with a low thud, catching your weight on your stinging palms before hobbling towards a nearby metal door.

Scrambling for the handle, you wrench the door open and take off down the hallway, not paying in mind in an actual direction. Only hoping that they’ll be food readily available to your pruned fingertips. 

The factory is a twist of tunnels and turns, encased in metal, pulling you deeper into its underbelly as you repeatedly turn away from the sound of approaching footsteps. 

Until finally, there isn’t anywhere to go. They’re approaching on all sides.  Thoughts of what they might do to you when they discover you play like a slasher film. You have no choice but to brace for the unknown. 

Suddenly, a weightless sensation takes over your frame and you fall back into an overlooked room on your part, landing on your ass.

“Hi. What’s your name?” Gazing up into a pair of butterscotch eyes, the soft tinkling of a little girl’s voice seems to penetrate the fog that weighs over you like a blanket. The harsh shade of pink that paints the walls burns your eyes. 

“Y/N,” You croak, “where am I?”

“You’re in my room, silly!” With remarkable strength, she tugs you off the floor and onto her bed, the mattress surprisingly soft and pliable against your body. The feeling is almost foreign. “Do you like my canopy bed? My Daddy built it for me.”

Wordlessly you gaze up at the ceiling of the four-poster bed, taking in the light pink drapes that adorn it.

“It’s nice,” You croak, “Do you have some water?”

“Oh, of course! Here!” Her chestnut curls bounce around her head in an almost chaotic halo as she gives you the thing that’d you’ve yearned for the most. 

Swallowing the water greedily, you pause mid-gulp when she asks, “Do you have a daughter?”

“No.”

“Would you ever want one?” With what strength you have, you place the now empty glass onto her striped nightstand before placing a hand on her cheek. She leans in instantly and there’s this unexpected warmth that blossoms in your chest. 

“If I ever had a daughter I’d want her to be as pretty as you.”

“Really,” She breathes, eyes sparkling in the weak beams of light that the buzzing fluorescents give off. 

“I never lie.” Your attempted smile comes out as a small grimace. You should go. You’re in danger and you don’t want to steal from this sweet and trusting girl. But the ache in your head has increased. The water you’d drank too fast sits at the top of your stomach uncomfortably. “I should…go…but tired.”

“Sleep, Y/N.” Her small hands brush your knotted hair aside before she places a gentle kiss on your forehead. In a hushed voice you swear, she says: “I’m gonna get Daddy.”

Garbled and broken, you ask, “What’s your name?” 

“They call me Lucy. But I don’t really like that, I like my full name. Daddy said it’s my _God-given_ name. That means I’m important, you know.” Another peck, “You can call me Lucille.”

Darkness overwhelms you. 

* * *

“Daddy, you won’t kill her will you? I like her!” Lucille shrieks indignantly, the sound alone pierces your skull as you desperately try to claw your way to the surface of reality. There’s another person in the room. Powerful and masculine, his spirit practically exudes vitality. You’re hackles rise, sensing danger. “She’s mine now! I found her and she’s mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine! _MINE_!”

“Of course not, sweetheart.” He coos, lowering his voice to an almost sing-song tone. “I’m just gon’a break her a little, you’ll see.”

A little mouth nears the place beside your ear, before it whispers in a hushed tone, “I had to do it. If you want to be happy, you have to suffer first.” A pause. “Don’t worry, Mommy. I’ll see you soon.”

The sound of the door closing makes you tremble, his presence is the only one in the cool room but it seems almost larger than life. It takes all the air in the room, leaving your breath constricted and ragged.

“I know you’re awake, girl. Why don’t you open your eyes?”

Slowly you peel your eyes open, once again finding yourself in the pink room. Only this time there are several floral pillows propped underneath your head. At the edge of the bed, a man sits.  His leather-clad back is broad. You can tell this much, as the muscles in his back flex as he sits hunched forward, toying with something in his hands. 

“Seems like my little Lucille has taken a liking to you.” He chuckles. His words all around favorable, but the laugh has an underlying edge to it. 

“Only thing is,” He idles, “I don’t remember having a smokin’ hot chick of your caliber under my _goddamn_ roof. I wonder where you came from?”

“Um…” Your head is heavy as you desperately try to make out the words with your tongue. If only you’d had some water, something to distract you from the burning hunger in the pit of your belly. 

“Stand up.” Wordlessly you do as he says, finding no other choice, corned in the small room. Lucille must have taken off your shoes as the soft fibers of the carpet tickle your feet in your slow trek to the foot of the bed.

Your antagonist is handsome, more so then you’d ever entertained the idea of. 

With two leather-clad digits, he beckons you closer. Finding no other choice but to stand before him until the tops of your thighs brush his bent knees. 

“First, let’s get something fucking straight. People usually bow when they see me.” With a startled yelp, you land on your boney knees, the brunt of the pain absorbed by the soft rug. He’d moved quicker then your malnourished mind could decipher, snatching a fistful of your hair so that’d you have no choice but to be tugged like a puppet on a string. “See this?”

He holds the blade so close to your face that you go cross-eyed. 

“Ain’t she a beaut?” He allows for a pause and in that instant, you play your part in this sadistic dialogue, shaking your head in agreement. “This here is Charlotte. She’s my dirty girl.” 

The grip on your hair tightens as he pulls you forward and onto the blade of the wicked looking knife, “Cold steel, six-inch blade. We’ve had our fair share of fun together…and I’m gonna slice your fucking throat with her if you don’t tell me how you got past my men.”

He waits some-what impatiently for your answer, but your torpid mind can only focus on one thing. Instead, taking note of your position before this powerful character and the feeling of cold steel pressed against your skin.

“Well shit, Char. You’ve got competition.” He catches your dilated pupils before turning his attention to the peaked buds straining against the thin cotton of your shirt. “Tell me, are you getting off on this kinky shit? I have a goddamn blade to your neck, and all you can do is think about slipping my dick down your throat. Am I right?”

Your gaze drops in shame, unable to take the condescending smirk on his handsome face. With the flat side of the blade, he lifts your chin until you meet his eyes. In your expression, he finds everything he needs.

“Cat got your goddamn tongue, Y/N?” Your eyes widen briefly as his name rolls off your tongue. 

“No, I’m not.” You begin to protest, but it’s useless. Had you become so depraved that a knife-wielding maniac could evoke such primitive emotions within you?

Yes. The answer was yes.

“Don’t quit your day job, sweetheart.” He refers to your blatant lie with a lascivious grin, the blade of his knife slowly traveling the expanse of your throat. He applies light pressure, so much so, that it’s slightly ticklish. But then the blade of Charlotte meets the protruding swell of your collarbone, he digs it teasingly into your skin, slicing a shuddered gasp from your cracked lips as the burning pain blossoms across your chest. 

“I think you like this. No, fuck that. I’m working on self-assurance—I _know_ you’re fucking horny for Char’s blade.” The delayed tears spring forward then, almost as if your body had to have had scavenged for the liquid. Whatever its found, it isn’t much. “How rude,” The nameless man coos. It’s similar to the way he’d comforted Lucille early, only his tone is slightly mocking, “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Negan. Lucille’s Daddy.”

He licks a tear from your face.

Uncontrollably, your body begins to respond to the action. The proximity of this male specimen. It’d been so long. Your chest flushes as you sense the almost foreign feeling of liquid trickling between your thighs. 

His hand twitches and you think this might be it. 

“Oh, please don’t!” With a flick of his wrist, he slices the material of your raggedy shirt just underneath the rounded bottoms of your breasts, a perfectly horizontal line. They tumble forth, exposed to the cool air and Negan’s impenetrable gaze. It’s a dangerous cocktail of sensations. The throbbing of your ripened buds mingling with the stinging line below your breasts which prickles from the cool air. 

It takes you a moment to realize that the mewling sound is coming from your lips.

“Well, fuck me. Maybe, Lucille _is_ right,” With a bark, he commands, “Stand up.” You make a poor attempt to scramble for purchase as he hoists you up by the unyielding grip on your hair, spinning you so that you’re facing Lucille’s canopy bed. 

The jingling of his belt makes you wince before you realize what he’s doing, releasing your hair and pulling your hands above your head and onto the bed frame. He cinches them in place using the rough material of his belt so that you’re left standing on the arches of your feet and your breasts are pushed up and outward.

“Keep ‘em there.” Funny, you had no choice. Flicking your eyes across the various stuffed animals on the bed you’re reminded of your surroundings. Another wave of shame hits, collecting at the apex of your thighs as he discards your shirt from your torso. He doesn’t bother to fully remove your bottoms, rather your jeans hold your ankles prisoner. He must’ve left your panties as a symbol of modesty. 

He presses against your naked back. A leathered digit comes into your vision before being joined by Charlotte. They head in two different directions. “How’d you get in here? There are rules, Y/N. I don’t take kindly to having them broken.”

“I climbed the fence,” You shriek, arching your back as he manipulates first one, then the other breast. There is nothing gentle about his touch, pinching the nipple, he tugs harshly before squeezing the entire globe. In an attempt to ignore the growing bulge against your ass you lean forward, but he follows, and he’s there too. Suffocating you with his presence.

“The back fence, hmm?” Charlotte’s blade teasingly runs the length of your stomach as he continues to fiddle with your body. “Who was keeping watch?”

You tell him that there was, in fact, no one when he doesn’t believe you the first time. But as you continue to provide further details in your narrative he curses someone by the name of “Fat Joey”. His tone is almost conversational thereafter, as he discusses your luck in not running into the persons on patrol. The entire time he dragging the blade lower. He stops, catching the sharp tip of the knife on the thin waistline of your panties.

“What to do with our little burglar?” He pivots the blade so that it presses into your skin instead. With bated breath, you wait for him to continue. Clearly, the entirety of this situation is one-sided. “Lucy thinks we should keep ya’. But it’s not that easy. Everyone has to work, sweetie. You have to contribute _shit_.” The blade digs deeper into the soft flesh of your tummy, this time drawing blood.

“What are you going to contribute to _Daddy_ Negan?”

“ _Hah_ , anything!” The fluttering of your inner-walls notifies you of your impending climax. 

“Anything? That’s pretty damn vague.” Nipping at your ear, he collects the smattering of blood collecting on your lower belly and wipes it on your stomach. The streak of pink seems to fit the aesthetic of the room. “People are a resource, Y/N. But they need food and water. Hell, you look about half-dead.”

The thought of food pierces your hazy, desire filled mind. “Me. You can have me,” You beseech him fiercely, although your gaze is locked onto the judgmental button eyes of a unicorn, “ _please_.”

There’s pause on his part and you wonder if you’d read this entire situation wrong. The thought is slightly disappointing. 

“You’ve signed a deal with the devil, Y/N.” Charlotte slices through the front of your undergarments at the same time his lips appear at your ear. The small nick on your outer lip brings forth a begging sound from your mouth. 

“ _Eeep_!” You have enough time to process that your arms have been released before Negan pushes you with a hard shove to the middle of your back, sending you sprawling face first into several pillows.

“I intend to reap my reward,” Spreading you almost lewdly, he prods at your hole, before pushing several fingers forward. Groaning at your tightness, he watches you squirm. Manipulating you so that every time he curls his fingers, your back arches off the bed. 

“What a pretty fucking pussy to give me too, darlin’. Is this all mine?” He coos, you come unraveled with a few more curls of his fingers, clenching your walls around the large intrusion as your whimper into the mattress. Your body is so weak, it’s almost too much.

The undoing of a zipper is introduced to the room, and a moment later the warm head of his penis rests against the swell of your ass.

Arranging you to his liking, he settles you until you’re kneeling and bent at the waist. “Get used to this position, honey. I’m gonna have you speared on my cock twenty-four- _goddamn_ -seven. Maybe mark that pretty skin of yours some more?” You groan at his suggestion.

You’re thankful for the orgasm he’d given you prior as he’s definitely larger than most. Without another word, he forces himself inside you, until the head of his cock is nudging against the entrance of your cervix. The pain he stokes within you seems to fuel an invisible fire, embracing you in a burning embrace until his labored breathing is joined by your own. The urgency of his hips pushes you further into the textured comforter, rubbing against your stinging cuts. 

Widening your hips, you cum with a drawn-out whimper no longer able to hold yourself up. The spike of adrenaline had been the only thing keeping you going. He follows you onto the mattress and your body becomes pliable to his ministrations as he works his groin against your ass, his pace becoming choppy and short as your walls inwardly massage him. 

With a shuddering groan, the grip on your hips become utterly painful as he releases into your quivering hole, fucking you into the mattress hard enough for the velocity to send you up the sheets by several inches.

Distantly you wonder if the blood will wash out of Lucille’s sheets. 

“Y/N, I think I’ve got just the place for you.” He breathes into your ear after a moment. Patting your ass and tucking himself back into his pants, he beckons, “Let’s get you fed, dear wife. You’ll be eating for two, soon enough.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos make me write better and faster! I just love hearing what you guys have to say. x


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